


The Most Beautiful Thing I've Ever Seen

by predictably_unpredictable



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Butt Worship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Sherlock body appreciation, Sherlock is frickin smoll in this one, Top John Watson, and a bit of, literally every bit of his body is loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predictably_unpredictable/pseuds/predictably_unpredictable
Summary: In which Sherlock feels insecure about his body, and John decides to show him how beautiful he really is.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angstlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstlover/gifts), [wtsnhlms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtsnhlms/gifts).



> Addi: [A fic where Sherlock’s prettiness is fully appreciated and worshipped](http://addignisherlock.tumblr.com/post/149875279856/a-fic-where-sherlocks-prettiness-is-fully)  
> Ika: I love Sherlock's butt
> 
> I really wanted to see more Insecure Sherlock fics floating around back when I was still a fanfic reader. And now that I actually write stuff and post it I thought... hey! what if I do a thing?
> 
> This fic is for Ika (the Sherlock butt lover), Addi (the Sherlock's prettiness lover) and the rest of addisbeesquad, thanks for helping me get my creative juices flowing guys :,)
> 
> This is basically John going over all of Sherlock's body parts and loving him to death. It's literally 6k words of porn. Have fun!

The first time he called Sherlock Holmes beautiful, the man had panicked.

It’d happened one of the first few times they’d had sex, after a particularly gruelling case that had left their blood singing and adrenaline soaring. They’d spun into the bedroom, clothing strewn all over the floor as John had pushed Sherlock forwards onto the bed, their lips still sealed as their bodies made contact with soft cotton.

There was nothing then, nothing else to keep them apart. With Mary and the baby sorted out and Moriarty finally dead and gone, there had been no more reason to hold back, no more cause for hesitation.

“I love you,” he’d whispered into Sherlock’s ear, the man mewling at the sound of his voice as he tore at John’s skin, his fingers frantically dancing in and out of the creases and crevices of his back.

“I love you,” he’d murmured yet again, this time against Sherlock’s neck, kissing the skin there, “You beautiful creature.”

And just like that, Sherlock had gone stiff. From the thrashing wild mess of a few moments earlier, his whole body had suddenly gone ramrod straight, his breaths stuttering.

John had panicked then, his eyes going wide as he turned to face Sherlock, terrified that he’d said something wrong.

However, Sherlock seemed to come back to himself the moment John’s eyes met his. He’d shaken his head, his eyes darkening once again as he’d lunged for John, dragging his head down to meet his lips in a bruising kiss.

Distracted, John decided to take Sherlock’s reaction as first time jitters, giving into Sherlock’s ministrations as he pressed the man back against his pillow, his fingers tangling in the man’s hair.

John didn’t mention it afterwards.

 

\----

 

The second time John called Sherlock beautiful was when they were waltzing around the living room. And this time, Sherlock had nearly crumpled onto the floor.

They’d been twisting and turning their way across the dusty carpet, weaving in and out of furniture as Sherlock twirled gracefully in the fading light, meeting John’s body again with a soft “thump” and John had never been more in love.

“You’re beautiful,” he’d murmured, his eyes fixed on Sherlock’s, his gaze licking its way across Sherlock’s flushed cheeks.

And then Sherlock had simply stalled, as if the words had registered in his head with sudden clarity. He’d trembled for a moment, his lip wobbling before he’d collapsed into John’s arms.

Thanking his army-borne reflexes, John had reached immediately for Sherlock, hauling him up by his armpits.

He’d glanced down in worry, his eyes roving across Sherlock’s face as the man blinked owlishly up at him then, his eyes wide and… terrified?

However, John had blinked and the fearful look had dissolved. Schooling his face into something more plain, Sherlock had used John’s arms as leverage to right himself, fixing John with a neutral gaze before escaping like a frightened doe away into the bathroom.

When Sherlock emerged two hours later, John had chalked it up to possibly something else that he had said, excusing away the situation.

Sherlock couldn’t possibly hate being called beautiful now, could he?

Despite this, he had kept his mouth shut and neither of them had addressed the incident ever since.

 

\----

 

The third time that John calls Sherlock beautiful, they’re spooning in bed with John’s arm wrapped possessively around Sherlock’s waist, clutching Sherlock’s hip tightly as the man sighs, pushing back into the pressure of John’s fingers.

They’ve had a lazy Saturday in, no cases, no experiments, nothing, just the two of them enjoying each other’s shared space.

The lamplight gleams across the exposed skin near Sherlock’s hip now, the rest of his figure bathed in shadow as the clock slowly ticks its way to midnight.

It’s late, and they both should be asleep… but John doesn’t want this day to end and from the way that Sherlock is behaving, he can tell that the man feels the same.

They rarely get quiet time together such as this and John is going to cherish this for as long as he can because Sherlock… Sherlock looks absolutely delectable right now.

His hair is in an absolute disarray, his dishevelled curls golden at the tip, glimmering in the faded light as they trail their way to dark brown at the base of his scalp.

There’s a blush riding high on his cheeks, his skin cherry pink as John plants a kiss on the back of his neck.

He looks absolutely-

John sighs, his fingers tightening their hold on the man’s hip as he takes a deep breath.

Now’s a better time than ever to bring it up, to see whether the word “beautiful” is truly a description that Sherlock hates.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs just as before, except that this time, he’s fully expecting Sherlock to bolt.

He holds Sherlock close as the man stiffens, his arms enclosing Sherlock in a safe bubble as Sherlock’s muscles tense up, his hair standing on end. Pulling the man close, he waits till he relaxes before loosening his grip, watching as the man shrugs back into his arms, sighing deeply. He lets the moment hang heavy over them for a second or two before he speaks.

“Sherlock-” John starts, only to be interrupted by a frustrated huff, “Sherlock, do you want to-”

“No, no I don’t,” Sherlock mutters, shifting around in John’s loose grip, scooting further away from him.

John sighs, shaking his head as he moves to sit, reaching out and tugging Sherlock’s hand, encouraging him to follow suit.

Sherlock refuses to move, however, remaining stock still, annoyance rolling off him in waves as John rolls his eyes, tugging at Sherlock once again.

“Sherlock I understand that this might be a sensitive topic for you,” John begins tentatively, his fingers still encircling Sherlock’s wrists, “And if it really is that sensitive, I won’t press it. But truly, I’d prefer it if there weren’t any secrets between us. Remember what happened the last time either of us tried to hide something from each other.”

He pauses, watching as Sherlock groans in response, flashing John a dark look as he crawls up the mattress, folding his arms as he slumps against the pillow.

Sherlock continues to glare at him even as John clears his throat.

“So…”

“I dislike being referred to as beautiful, yes,” Sherlock mumbles, cutting John off as he narrows his eyes, “That’s all there is to the matter-”

“No, Sherlock,” John replies sternly, interrupting Sherlock in turn. “We’ve been together for two months and I know evasion tactics when I see them.”

Sherlock sighs deeply at this, mumbling something along the lines of “wonder when you got so observant” as he slides down the headboard, his head coming to rest on his pillow.

“Sherlock, come on work with me here,” John persists, turning on his side to face Sherlock, watching as the man’s eyes dart away from his, affixing their gaze firmly on the ceiling. “We have to talk about this.”

“I just don’t like being called beautiful is all,” Sherlock rolls his eyes, refusing to make eye contact, “Nothing particularly heinous about that-”

John frowns at this, his expression stormy as Sherlock turns to face him. The man freezes in response, locking eyes with John as his shoulders tense up.

God, is the man actually to pull this shit again?

But then Sherlock takes a deep gulp, looking as skittish as he had on the day that John first told him that he loved him and John sighs. He can’t stay angry at Sherlock for long - not when the man is so open and vulnerable. The last thing he wants is for Sherlock to clam up again and hide away.

Shaking his head, John reaches out for Sherlock’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“If it’s really a sensitive subject Sherlock, I’ll-”

“Do you really find me beautiful?”

The question startles John for a moment, his eyebrows shooting up before he regains some semblance of composure, fixing Sherlock with a sincere gaze.

He had not expected that.

“Of course darling,” John mumbles, his gaze locked with Sherlock’s as he scoots closer to the man’s side, their shoulders meeting.

Sherlock's eyes widen in response, open and questioning as they peer back at John, his eyelashes fluttering softly.

“But why?”

John frowns.

“What do you mean why?”

Sherlock exhales, leaning into John’s shoulder.

“I mean no one else does,” he mutters, shrugging his shoulders as John’s eyes widen further.

God… How could he not know?

“Sherlock…” John starts, “You’ve got the body of Adonis, a voice like silk and- who could ever-”

“Children… At school…” Sherlock cuts him off, his electric blue irises suddenly losing their shine, turning a darker shade of sea blue, “Used to remark that I looked like an alien.”

“Oh, Sherlock…”

“Why do you think I put product in my hair and wear suits all the time John?” he sighs, burying his face in John’s shoulder, “It’s because I look disgusting and awful and-”

“Sherlock, that’s not true.”

“No - what’s not true is how you seem to think that I’m beautiful John,” Sherlock mutters, his voice growing slightly hoarse, “It’s simply not possible,”

Sherlock can’t possibly be saying what John thinks he’s saying? Right?

“Sherlock, you’ve ever had to seduce suspects before,” John responds. He reaches for Sherlock’s hand, entwining his fingers with his, “You must surely be aware that you are attractive? At least on some level?”

Sherlock lets out a choked laugh.

“That’s because I do up my hair and wear fancy clothing, John,” Sherlock spits, “That much is obvious.”

“Sherlock-”

“So how could you possibly find me beautiful when I’m not dressed up? When my hair is frizzy and disgusting and matted? When my clothes are faded and worn? How could you possibly find me attractive in any way-”

“Oh Sherlock,” John breathes, bending to press a kiss in the man’s hair, “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

“Stop saying that, I’m not beautiful,” Sherlock pulls away from him, the loss of body contact leaving John bereft as his fingers slip out of Sherlock’s hand. “My legs are too thin, my face is too weird-looking, my back is covered in disgusting SCARS-”

John is silent at this. God, he’d never thought of that. Well, he’d always personally been loathe to let anyone else see his scar, but Sherlock? He never knew that Sherlock cared about these kinds of things.

“- How could you possibly think that I’m beautiful? It’s not…”

God, he’s been so blind.

Without thinking, John makes a lunge for him, his eyes wild as Sherlock yelps, his lips meeting John’s in a firm press.

He’s resting on top of Sherlock now, one hand snaking its way into his hair as the other reaches out to cup his cheek, pulling Sherlock’s face close.

“You have no idea-” John mumbles when he breaks away for air, his breaths ghosting across Sherlock’s lips as the man shudders, clutching John’s shoulders tightly, “- how beautiful you are, god.”

At this, he bends down once again, his lips slotting against Sherlock’s as the man whimpers, his fingers digging into John’s back. The pressure only serves to egg him on, John licking a seam down Sherlock’s closed lip, feeling the dips and creases in the chapped skin as Sherlock moans, his fingers migrating to John’s cheeks to pull him closer.

Sherlock has to know, fuck he has to know-

“I’m going to show you,” John growls, eliciting an answering whimper from Sherlock, “How beautiful you are. Would you like that? Would you?”

“John,” is all Sherlock says before he reaches for John again, pulling him down against him. His lips move in time with John’s, his kisses tinged with desperation as his tongue slips past John’s parted lips.

John moans in response, fisting his hands in Sherlock’s curls as he presses the man back down onto the bed, their tongues tangling obscenely.

They’ve been together for merely two months, but that was, to be honest, more than enough time to discover that Sherlock likes it rough in bed. And John is about to use that to his advantage.

“You’re the most beautiful, most gorgeous… MINE,” he bends his head, licking a line up the column of Sherlock’s throat as Sherlock trembles, his body shaking as John turns his attention to his collarbone instead, biting down hard.

Sherlock mewls in response, his head thrown back in ecstasy as John sucks down hard on the patch of skin there. His eyes flutter shut when John pulls off, laving the reddened skin there gently with his tongue, soothing the bite mark.

He thanks the heavens that they hadn’t bothered changing into a fresh set of clothing after having sex earlier today. It’s going to make this so much easier.

“I’m going to show you how beautiful you are,” John breathes, his breaths ragged as Sherlock nods, his hair in complete disarray.

“I’m not going to stop,” John growls, watching Sherlock’s pupils widen in response, “Not until you believe me wholeheartedly. Not until you can tell me with that pretty little mouth of yours how gorgeous you are. Is that clear?”

Sherlock blinks at him for a moment, stunned in every sense of the word.

“Yes, John,” Sherlock croaks, his voice hoarse and deep as he stares up at John, his eyes wide.

John smirks in response, his eyes sparkling as he locks gazes with Sherlock.

“Very well then”, he mutters smugly as he dips down, pressing one last kiss to Sherlock’s lips before raising himself up off Sherlock’s chest, his burgeoning erection brushing against Sherlock’s as he steadies himself against the headboard.

He presses his lips to Sherlock’s forehead, a hand coming to rest in Sherlock’s hair as he strokes the curls there gently, tangling them with his fingers.

“You have no idea what your hair does to me,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to the nest of curls on the left side of Sherlock’s parting, “You say that it’s gross when it’s matted, when it’s oily and uncleaned and unstyled but god, that’s even better because - it smells like you and right now-”

John buries his nose in Sherlock’s curls, inhaling deeply as Sherlock gasps, his hands instinctively reaching for John’s sides.

“-also sex from this morning.”

He drags his nose across the seam of scalp that denotes Sherlock’s parting, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as Sherlock’s moans.

The hand in Sherlock’s hair tightens at the sound, tugging at the tuft of curls there gently as Sherlock whimpers, his eyes screwed shut as John chuckles, shifting off to press a soft kiss to Sherlock’s lips.

“And your scalp, oh… oh so sensitive,” John murmurs, eliciting a throaty rumble from Sherlock, “You like that don’t you, when I play with your curls?”

He gives them a hard tug this time and Sherlock groans, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his hips rise up off the bed.

“God do you know what your hair does to me?” John breathes, staring down reverently at Sherlock, the man’s eyes screwed tightly shut as he nostrils flare, “Those noises that you’re making.”

“I think…” Sherlock gasps as John shifts, his erection lining up with Sherlock’s thigh, “I have a good idea-”

“Good, that’s good. That’s exactly what I want,” John smirks, rolling his hips and thrusting up against Sherlock’s skin, “For you to know how gorgeous your hair is, whether it be combed back, oily, slick or messy. It’s beautiful Sherlock. God, even without washing, your curls are so soft. Fuck.”

At this, John gives Sherlock’s curls another yank, tugging them upwards harshly as Sherlock yelps, the flush on his chest deepening.

“Fuck, JOHN!”

“That’s not the only thing worth noting about your appearance by the way-” John raises his eyebrows, a smug look plastered on his face as he untangles his hand from Sherlock’s curls, sliding his knuckles down to the man’s cheek, “-We’ve got such a long way to go…”

“John god, don’t stop.”

John smiles in response, his heart pounding as he drops a kiss to both sides of Sherlock’s forehead. He loves it when Sherlock gets like this, when his body takes over his mind, when he renders full control to his latent desires and allows John to act upon them.

This is going to be amazing.

“Your eyes as well,” John starts, drawing himself out of his thoughts as he locks eyes with Sherlock, bright cerulean irises meeting dark sea blue, “God your eyes.”

He bends down, brushing a hand across both of Sherlock’s eyebrows as Sherlock’s eyes fall close.

Smiling at the sight, John presses a gentle kiss to both of Sherlock’s closed eyelids, chapped skin meeting smooth and Sherlock’s breath hitches.

“They’re such a vibrant shade of blue,” John breathes when Sherlock opens his eyes once again, staring up at him with something akin to wonder, “So bright and dazzling and - there are galaxies in your eyes I swear. Nebulas and supernovas and fuck if I could count the number of times that I’ve gotten lost in them…”

“Now you’re just waxing poetic,” Sherlock whispers sheepishly, blinking shyly up at him.

John smiles.

“It’s not waxing poetic if it’s true, darling,” he murmurs, caressing Sherlock’s cheek with the back of his hand as he presses a kiss to Sherlock’s nose.

Sherlock’s cheeks instantly redden.

“Hmmm…” John hums to himself, taking great joy in the flush spreading across Sherlock’s cheeks, “Now for your cheekbones.”

“They’re the sharpest I have ever seen,” John cups Sherlock’s cheek with his palm, stroking the outline of the bone with his thumb, “Do you know how ethereal you look in the dark, when we’re out on a case and all that’s there to light us in lamplight? You look like a fucking model.”

Sherlock’s eyes shoot wide open at the remark, confusion dulling his bright blue irises as he fixes them on John.

“But… People used to make fun of them…” he whispers, trembling a little, “Are you sur-”

“Sherlock,” John shakes his head, keeping eye contact with the man as he draws his index finger up the outline of the bone on his left cheek, “They are extraordinary and truly nothing to be ashamed about.”

Sherlock still seems unconvinced though. His eyes dart back and forth, flicking from John’s eyes to his brow, as if looking for signs of dishonesty.

Sighing softly in response, John fixes him with a reassuring gaze, pressing a kiss to one of the corners of Sherlock’s cheekbones, sucking the skin there gently as he draws a line down the other side of Sherlock’s face with his other free hand.

That seems to do the trick, because when he pulls off with a wet “pop”, Sherlock’s eyes are wild, his pupils pitch black.

John chuckles in response.

“You have no idea how gorgeous they make you look,” he smiles, bending to nuzzle up against Sherlock’s cheek, eliciting a groan from the man as his hair brushes up against Sherlock’s ear.

“And now…” John murmurs, his fingers trailing down Sherlock’s cheeks to rest on the hinge of his jaw, “...onto your neck.”

He presses a chaste kiss to Sherlock’s Adam’s apple and the man shivers.

“God I love your neck. Do you know? Before we got together… how often I used to look at it and imagine sinking my teeth into it? It’s so pale and long and absolutely pornographic-”

John licks a long line up the column of his throat in example, leaving a shiny line of saliva which starts at the base of Sherlock’s collarbone and ends at the rim of his jaw. His tongue twists as it makes its way across the dip in Sherlock’s throat, licking its way to his Adam’s apple.

Laving the raised skin there with the pebbled muscle, he smirks as Sherlock gasps, sending a vibration up the column of his throat before John closes his lips around his Adam’s apple and sucks hard.

Sherlock’s hips practically fly off the bed in response, his erection brushing up against John’s thigh as John pulls off, wiping his lips with the back of his hand as Sherlock shudders.

“I used to fantasise for hours over that neck,” John murmurs, smiling down at Sherlock’s rapidly expanding chest, “Nearly always got hard when you removed your scarf back then-”

Sherlock’s eyes go wide once again.

“Did you really?” Sherlock interrupts, his breathing shallow and harsh.

“Of course, Sherlock,” John grins, rolling his eyes, “Would I lie to you about something like this?”

Sherlock smiles shyly in answer, the blush on his cheeks darkening.

His eyes are wide, sparkling in the dim light, his body flushed cherry red and wanting and-

 _Fuck_ , John thinks, licking his lips, _he looks absolutely delectable right now_.

Normally, at this point in their activities, John would have grabbed the lube by now and fucked him into oblivion but no… not yet. This night is supposed to be about Sherlock, about letting him know how beautiful he truly is and John is not about to rush it.

“Moving on…” John murmurs, said more as a command to himself than anything else, “your collarbone. Oh-”

He pauses, his thumb brushing across the long line of bone in reverence. There’s a purpling bruise on the left side from where he’d bitten it earlier, the crisscrossing lines of purple skin dark against Sherlock’s alabaster collarbone and something dark and territorial awakes in John’s chest.

He chuckles to himself, his voice deepening as he presses a kiss to the abused skin there and Sherlock moans.

“I love your collarbone Sherlock, it’s so prominent against your skin,” he breathes against the line of bone there, “I hated it when you trounced around the flat in low-necked T-shirts.... You have no idea how badly I wanted to run my fingers across it, how badly I wanted to sink my teeth into it-”

“Well,” Sherlock quips, his breaths stuttering, “I guess you got your wish.”

“Yes,” John smiles, pressing another kiss to the mark, “Yes I did.”

John plants one last kiss on the bite-mark before turning his attention now to Sherlock’s chest, his fingers brushing across Sherlock’s smooth pectorals down to his nipples.

He ignores the bullet scar for now. He’s got plans for that later.

“Do you know how much I love your nipples Sherlock?” he begins, his eyes focussed on the puckered nub of skin there, “God they’re so sensitive...”

He doesn’t need to look at Sherlock’s face to know that the man is frowning.

“How does that make me beautiful,” the man protests, “That doesn’t make any- FUCK”

John has dipped his head down, his lips encircling Sherlock’s right nipple, sucking hard on the peaked, pinkish skin. His left hand is similarly busy, pinching Sherlock’s other nipple between his thumb and index finger and rubbing it, the nub hardening upon his touch.

He smirks as he gives the area one final swipe with his tongue, Sherlock’s body relaxing as John presses one final kiss to both his nipples before moving on.

“It’s beautiful when you react to me honey,” John smirks, his eyes roving over Sherlock’s trembling body. His nipples are probably one of the most sensitive parts of his body, John has found. It’s the quickest way to get Sherlock hard and oh-

John’s eyes dart downwards to the thatch of hair just below Sherlock’s navel, skimming across the dark hair and zeroing in on the engorged cock currently resting up against Sherlock’s belly, already red and twitching.

“John, god please touch me-” Sherlock whimpers, reaching for John’s hips. But John shifts out of the way, deftly avoiding Sherlock’s grip as the man whines, thrusting up into thin air.

“No, not yet,” John smiles, purposefully slowing his voice down to torture him, “Remember what I said Sherlock...”

“If you’re going to be like that, then just get ON WITH IT THEN,” Sherlock yelps, his eyes crinkled shut as he buries his head in his pillow, clearly trying to hold himself together.

John smirks in response.

“Alright,” he croons, dragging his hands down Sherlock’s chest.

If Sherlock wants him to get on with it… then he will.

His fingers brush past Sherlock’s abdomen as his lips come to rest up against Sherlock’s belly button. John licks the dip of skin there for good measure, eliciting a groan from above as he turns his attention to Sherlock’s hips.

He loves them, god he does. He loves them in low-slung pyjama bottoms, the bone just peeking out of the tattered cotton and he loves them especially after sex, when the sides are bruised and marked with his fingertips. God...

“Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous,” he murmurs to himself as his fingers slide down to bracket Sherlock’s hips.

“Your hips, fuck they’re so sharp and angular,” John mutters, “I love it when you wear low waisted jeans you know, really do show off those curves of yours. And that freckle in the corner-”

“That’s a disgusting birthmark John,” Sherlock interjects, his breathing still shallow - which means that even though he still has the presence of mind to speak, John is still doing a good job at distracting him.

“No, no it’s not,” John smiles, turning to face the man up from between his thighs, “I think it’s adorable.”

He hears Sherlock squeak in response and smiles to himself, pressing his lips up against the dark patch of skin on Sherlock’s side.

“Hmmmmm,” John hums as his fingers slither further down, deftly avoiding Sherlock’s groin even as the man shifts himself, trying to align his cock with John’s hands.

He swats at Sherlock’s hips in answer, fixing the man with a cheeky look when he reaches the foot of the bed.

“And… You have the most amazing feet-”

“John that’s gross,” Sherlock huffs, clearly still annoyed that John hasn’t bothered touching him.

“No, it’s not,” John hums. He presses a kiss to each toe in answer, holding onto Sherlock’s ankle as he licks a long line up the sole and surprisingly, Sherlock’s hips buck off the bed.

“Hmmm… didn’t know you were sensitive here,” John murmurs, kissing the arches of both of Sherlock’s ankles as the man in question moans, “I’ll have to keep that in mind for future reference.”

“John…”

“Turn over, will you?”

Sherlock obliges, flipping himself over as John moves out of the way, kneeling at the foot of the bed as the man’s back comes into view.

His gaze lingers on the scars near Sherlock’s spine, the dips and creases in his skin all the more prominent in the dim light. John’s eyes shine as he gulps down a wave of sudden hurt and regret.

He’ll deal with that later.

He instead fixes his eyes on Sherlock’s arse, marvelling silently over the smooth globes before pressing a tentative palm to one cheek, dragging his fingertips down the gentle curve of skin.

“Now… onto your arse,” he murmurs, his voice soft, “God, Sherlock, do you know how beautiful your arse is?”

He raises his hands, one hand on one cheek as he squeezes them, his fingers stretching the skin and Sherlock lets out a loud moan in response.

“For a skinny bastard like you, you do seem to have pretty well-endowed arse cheeks,” John mutters, bending to press kisses on each one as Sherlock groans.

“Used to fantasise about this you know,” he mutters, “Running my fingers over your arse, feeling the skin there quiver under my touch. It’s so fucking round god-”

John strokes the smooth skin with his palm again, his fingers outstretched, bracketing them as he bends to press a kiss to the dip of skin at the top of Sherlock’s buttocks.

He groans, using his hands to spread Sherlock’s butt cheeks wide as his tongue darts out, licking his way down Sherlock’s perineum down to his arsehole.

Sherlock trembles in answer.

“And I especially love this,” John smirks, his fingers still stretching Sherlock wide as he presses his tongue to Sherlock’s entrance, circling the puckered layer of skin there.

Sherlock groans, grinding his hips up into John’s face as John slips his tongue through the ring of muscle, already quite open from the fuck they had had that morning.

He licks his way into Sherlock’s entrance, tasting a bit of his come on the ring of muscle there and lets out a loud groan in response, his chest vibrating up against Sherlock’s thigh.

It’s so filthy and disgusting and- John is loving every moment of this.

He thrusts his tongue up into the heat of Sherlock’s body once more, slowly retracting the muscle before pushing it in once again-

“JOHN SHIT, JOHN-”

John moans in response, feeling his lover’s body tense up against him. He pulls off, giving the area one last swipe with his tongue before sitting up, wiping his lip with the back of his hand as he surveys him work.

Sherlock’s entrance is a flaming red, the hole there fluttering as Sherlock thrusts up off the bed, still seeking contact and John growls at the sight.

Whimpering in response, Sherlock gives up on grinding upwards into thin air in favour of grinding down onto the bed, moaning as he rubs his erection down against the mattress.

That’s not how John wants the man to come.

“Sherlock, turn over now, that’s an order,” John snarls sternly, slapping Sherlock’s left butt cheek to make his point clear.

Sherlock whimpers, making a low guttural noise in his throat and turns over.

John would never have been prepared for the sight that greets him.

Sherlock’s cock is flushed a deep red from root to tip, precome already started to bead at the top as the man thrusts wantonly up into thin air, clearly desperate for some semblance of friction.

“Oh fuck,” John murmurs as Sherlock’s cock springs up against his navel, engorged and twitching.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful your cock is,” John bends down, nuzzling against the root and inhaling deeply. It smells like sweat and sex and Sherlock and oh isn’t that the headiest combination…

Sherlock gasps in response, his hips rising up off the bed of their own volition as John chuckles.

“It’s so long and slender,” John groans, “So fucking gorgeous.”

He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, licking across the flaps of foreskin and Sherlock’s hips buck off the bed.

John holds him down by the hips as he hollows out his cheeks, sucking Sherlock down as the man yelps, his fingers coming to rest in John’s hair as he pulls off, licking a long stripe up the large vein at the back of his cock.

Sherlock cries out, his thighs trembling as he throws his head back onto the pillow, whimpering softly as John turns his attention to his balls, fondling them gently before taking them into his mouth, suckling them.

“John please just, god just…” Sherlock babbles as John hums around him, finally releasing his balls as he jerks up off the bed, “FUCK ME ALREADY PLEASE-”

“But you still don’t think you’re beautiful darling- at least not that I can tell,” John responds coyly, enjoying every bit of this.

He’s going to draw this out for as long as he possibly can.

“GOD FUCK I’M GORGEOUS ALRIGHT. BEAUTIFUL AND PRETTY AND AMAZING AND GOD WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST FUCK ME ALREADY,” Sherlock all but yells, his voice throaty and hoarse and well… that does it.

John pushes up onto his knees, making a quick grab for the bottle of lube on the side table as he aligns his body with Sherlock’s once again, stretching up to give the man a kiss. Their lips meet with great desperation, John’s soaring upwards to trap Sherlock bottom lip in between them, sucking the fold of skin in between his own.

“One more thing, Sherlock,” he gasps when they part for air, his heart thumping as he uncaps the lube, drizzling its contents onto his palm, spreading it out evenly onto three of his fingers.

“Your lips,” he moans, dipping a finger down to Sherlock’s entrance, circling the raised skin there for a moment before pushing in.

“When I first met you, that was the first thing I noticed,” John’s index finger has gone in past the knuckle, the tip of his middle finger encircling the opening, preparing to push in, “Your lips. Do you know how amazing, how gorgeous they are? How plump and full and gosh-”

John slips his middle finger in, sliding it past the furled skin and Sherlock moans against his lips.

“I always wanted to take them in between my lips and suck them, suck them till they were raw and red, so that everybody would know that I had kissed you,” he slicks up his third finger, pressing it into the resistance of Sherlock’s body and this time Sherlock’s hips buck off the bed.

“John… John…”

“Yes, darling,” John murmurs, his tongue following the outline of Sherlock’s lips just as he crooks the three fingers inside of Sherlock, thrusting them up into the heat of Sherlock’s body…

“JOHN!”

Found it.

“JOHN PLEASE, JOHN I’M READY, PLEASE-” the man wails, clearly tired out from the long drawn out foreplay and seeking some form of release.

John smirks in response, withdrawing his fingers quickly with a loud “squelch” as Sherlock yelps, drawing his thighs up to his chest as John helps him hook them over his shoulders, arranging the limbs so that they criss-cross over the back of his chest.

“JOHN PLEASE- I-” Sherlock continues to whine as John slicks up his cock, aligning the head with his entrance, “Oh god-”

John smiles deviously in response, pushing in through the ring of muscle with a satisfied smirk as Sherlock sighs in relief.

He’s got one more trick up his sleeve.

“So Sherlock…” he says when he’s seated himself all the way down to the hilt, his balls brushing up against Sherlock’s buttocks, “Anything you’d like to say?”

“Wha- what do you mean?” the man slurs, fixing a heated and yet sloppy gaze on the man above him, evidently confused.

“Anything you’d like to say to get me to move?” John repeats, focusing a fiery, lust-filled gaze on the man below him and Sherlock gulps.

“I’m- I’m beautiful,” Sherlock whispers and John smiles, rewarding him with a well-aimed thrust.

Sherlock moans in answer, his cock twitching as his fingers tighten their hold on John’s back.

“I’m gorgeous,” he murmurs this time, his voice a little louder and this time, John rewards him with two thrusts in succession, stealing the air away from Sherlock’s lungs as the man gasps, his hips rolling downwards to meet John’s cock.

“I-I’m beautiful, gorgeous, amazing, handsome, attRACTIVE,” Sherlock yells the last word as John begins to speed up his thrusts, pummelling into Sherlock with all that he’s got.

“I’M FASCINATING, CHARMING, ENCHANTING-” he wails, keeping up the litany of praise as John dives into him, harder and faster than before.

“You’re beautiful, your voice, god, it's so deep,” John groans, burying his face in Sherlock’s collarbone as he continues to roll his hips, thrusting up into Sherlock’s body, the man clearly wrecked beyond the point of return, “You’re gorgeous… MINE.”

“I’M YOURS TOO, YOURS, YOUR BEAUTIFUL LOVER, BOYFRIEND- GOD.”

And with that, John wraps his fingers around Sherlock’s shaft, pumping his fist hard and fast as Sherlock cries out, spilling onto his fingers.

His passageway convulses, vibrating around John’s cock and John shudders, seeing stars as he thrusts one last time, seating himself as deeply as possible as he spills into his lover’s body, his cock twitching as he rides out his orgasm.

When the last throes of orgasm ebb away, John groans, his arms giving way as he collapses onto Sherlock’s body, their chests meeting with a thump, winding the two of them.

They lie there for a moment, struggling to catch their breaths as John shifts off, tumbling onto the space of bed beside him.

“Sherlock,” he gasps, his breaths uneven as his eyes rove over Sherlock’s flushed chest. That had truly been one spectacular orgasm, he muses, considering that there’s come on Sherlock’s nipples too.

He sits up with trembling thighs brushing the curls hanging low on his lover’s forehead, the man still heaving from the force of his orgasm.

“One more thing, one more reason why you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, gently tugging Sherlock onto his side so that his back is facing him.

“These,” he whispers, raising tentative fingers to the dips and creases in Sherlock’s back. Sherlock’s breath hitches in response, his body stilling as John runs his fingers up and down the lines of scars crisscrossing the pale skin.

“You said it several times over, that you’re awful, that you’re a sociopath… But that’s not true, not one bit of it,” John murmurs, stroking the ridged skin there gently.

“You’re strong, brave and oh so selfless,” John continues as Sherlock draws a shuddering breath, “You came back to me, you could have left and never come back but you still made it a point to find me, to return to me… And your scars are a sign of that dedication.”

Sherlock gasps in response, his body relaxing as John presses a kiss to the tip of a deep scar, running his lips down to the base of the strip of puckered skin.

“This too,” he murmurs, throwing an arm around Sherlock’s chest, pressing a palm to Sherlock’s chest, his thumb gently stroking the bullet wound there.

“You’ve been so brave Sherlock, so brave and selfless and kind - that’s what makes you beautiful,” he finishes, planting a final kiss on the nape of Sherlock’s neck as the man shivers, “So gorgeous.”

“Finding chivalry sexy… hmmm… that sounds like you,” Sherlock chuckles softly as he turns to face John, fixing him with a besotted look.

“Does it now?” John chortles, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s lips as he reaches for the flannel on the bedside table, wiping up the mess on Sherlock’s chest as the man purrs.

“Most definitely,” the man sighs in answer, groaning as John dips the flannel down lower.

John smiles, admiring the steady stream of come leaking slowly out his lover’s hole before he swipes the flannel through the mess, wiping up the cleft of Sherlock’s arse.

“You’re adorable,” John laughs, chucking the flannel away as he rolls Sherlock back onto his back, nuzzling up against the man’s stomach…

… Which promptly starts growling.

“You’re also really beautiful when you’re eating too…” John hums, blowing a raspberry on Sherlock’s tummy as the man breaks out into a fit of giggles.

“Oh really now?” he chuckles, raising himself up by the arms.

“Yep,” John smiles, ruffling Sherlock’s curls as he forces himself off the bed, hurriedly slipping on a dressing gown, “There're some waffles in the freezer, some honey too. Guess we could have those for a midnight snack.”

Sherlock’s eyes crinkle in laughter.

“Yeah…” Sherlock hums, collapsing back onto the bed, licking his lips, “Guess sex makes me hungry huh?”

“Well I sure hope it does,” John answers, reaching for the doorknob, “It’ll make it a lot easier for me to get you to eat in future if so?”

“Is that a promise, doctor?” Sherlock questions cheekily, peering up at John from the bed.

“That’s a promise,” John replies, winking as he pulls the door open.

He’s half out the door when he hears the rustling of bedsheets, signifying that Sherlock has gotten out of bed.

“John?” the man whispers and John can’t help but turn to face him.

Sherlock’s voice is suddenly a lot more vulnerable and gentle than it had been before.

“John… I just want to say… thanks for that,” he murmurs, shuffling forward shyly as he bends down to press a kiss into John’s hair, “That was… good.”

If John didn’t know better, he’d say that his heart was melting.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he murmurs, cupping Sherlock’s cheek as he brings the man’s lips down to meet his, “You’re beautiful you know, you really are.”

Sherlock’s cheeks turn a deep crimson in response.

“Yeah… I guess I am huh?” he chuckles, pressing an answering kiss to John’s nose.

He pulls back, smiling broadly and god, does John love it when Sherlock smiles.

The man is practically radiating happiness and satisfaction, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight as John’s eyes rove across his chest, admiring the bruises that are starting to form along his hips and the dark purple one that looks like it has been inked into his collarbone.

His nipples are now a faded red, soft little buds that stand out against his chest, one of them just a few centimetres away from the faded pucker of the bullet scar. And lower, Sherlock’s cock hangs soft against his thigh, flaccid and pale and John has never wanted to kiss it more.

He directs his gaze back to Sherlock’s face, taking in the man’s ruby rose lips, slick with saliva and chapped from friction and he loves him, he loves him…

_“You’re beautiful you know, you really are.”_

_“Yeah… I guess I am huh?”_

John smiles.

“You really are honey… you really are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys!!! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I know I'm supposed to be writing the next chapter of THTDU but like ehehehe
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://predictably-unpredictable.tumblr.com)
> 
> Related Works:  
> [A body-conscious Sherlock](http://addignisherlock.tumblr.com/post/150915608101/sherlock-john-starts-youve-got-the-body-of) by Addignisherlock  
> [More fanart](http://wtsnhlms.tumblr.com/post/154046957234/i-commissioned-the-lovely-johix-for-some) by Johix


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